The Night
by Delle Tuh
Summary: In the journey back to Hogwarts, the trio is faced with the most terrible force they've yet to conquer. A sensual tale of friendship and the lengths one is willing to go for love. Revised and Reposted. Rated M for sexual content.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter._

**The Night**

Soft moans and crumpled sheets, hair grasped between fingers as lips traveled south. Bodies shook as minds blurred and vision contracted. Lust clouded over willing eyes as whimpers escaped parted lips. The night air seemed to cling around them, the suspense and horror that had once filled their dreams having been put away for the time being, this moment filled with tangled limbs and soft strokes.

Hermione was the first to scream, Ron having obviously found a very pleasurable spot with his tongue on her body, deep between her legs. Harry was busy stroking her uncovered breasts, slowly teasing the taut skin that surrounded her nipple. His mouth resting there, nipping slowly at the tip, meticulously licking the reddened flesh afterward.

Soon Hermione's hands found Harry's hair, her fingers tracing the wild tufts of ebony silk as Ron's tongue stole away all common thought, all common sense. She pulled Harry's lips to hers through a tug of his hair, kissing him softly, her tongue meeting his own in long, slow strokes.

Harry felt her muscles begin to tighten, his hands rippling over her body as Ron's mouth brought her to her peak. He rode her through the waves, Harry watching as her eyes never left his, penetrating them with an emotion that only seemed to show in these moments, deep within the mouth of night.

Ron slowly kissed back up across her stomach, slowly laving one nipple with his tongue before kissing her fiercely. Ron's hands then began to wander, tracing quiet circles on Harry's exposed thigh.

Hermione moaned as Harry kissed her neck gently, Ron's other hand beginning to drift downward on her body once more. Her breathing quickened as she began to feel the deep ache build within her once more, one that only Harry and Ron had seemed to fill lately, one that not even she could come to understand.

Ron straddled one of Hermione's legs, slowly tracing small circles terribly close to her core as his other hand drew closer and closer to Harry's length. He gripped him fully, Harry's breath hitching slightly, Hermione catching a small bite on his neck. She gasped loudly as Ron's fingers found her warmth, tracing maddening circles around and around until her head was practically spinning.

Ron's other hand expertly stroked Harry, grasping him firmly while pushing down and pulling up with just as much ferocity. He began to feel Harry jerk beneath him, and something rather unexpected creeping up his own thigh. Hermione's slender fingers had grasped between his own legs, pulling him softly. He moaned her name, a mere whisper across his lips,

_Mione…_

Whether it was in his own mind or whether he really said it no one would ever know. His stroke on Harry quickened, his moans growing rapidly with each thrust. Hermione's muscles already began to contract slowly, her back arching in such a way the made her breasts lift and peak.

Ron's mind went unconsciously foggy, the only thing apparent in his mind was the constant moans of his friends and that of his own, pleasure wracking through his body as Harry cried out, Hermione drawing out a long, throaty moan as they collapsed beside each other, Hermione's hand still pumping furiously in between Ron's legs.

Harry bent down in front of Ron, breathing hot on his tip before drawing it slowly into his mouth. Ron's eyes grew wide as Hermione tugged slightly on his skin, Harry's mouth enveloping him whole. His tongue dancing wicked circles around him, bringing him to climax almost at once.

Ron fell between his friends, welcoming their warmth as arms entangled themselves around each other softly, embracing the loneliness and the bitter resentments and taking it all back, letting it all go.

When mornings came each would dress quietly, Hermione kissing Ron softly before kissing Harry, slowly biting his bottom lip before drawing back to make the morning coffee. A chill filled the tent as the clasps broke wide at the tent opening, Ron rushing to close it as snowflakes rushed in, threatening to blow out the small furnace set up in the living area.

Harry wrapped a large blanket around himself, feeling the locket around his neck sting with pain before his mind pushed it away, only feeling Ron's arms slowly envelop his waist. He kissed his neck before leaving him, turning behind a large curtain to search for clothes to wear.

Harry's mind wandered as he sat upon a rather large pillow, looking from Ron's shadow to Hermione's slim form as she poured separate cups of coffee. He wondered what had turned them all to this, these wild passionate nights followed by lazy, contented mornings.

Maybe it was pure loneliness, a want just to be needed and held. Everyone felt alone in this War, feeling torn apart in every way imaginable. Hermione's parents having to go into hiding without their own knowledge. Harry sensed the sadness in her eyes when silence overcame the trio, a sweet sacrifice she had made for him. It made his heart ache even deeper.

Ron's constant worry had only subsided when the Nights started. He was always fidgeting with himself, his mind constantly working out every possible way his family already could have died, already could have left him without any word whatsoever. He loved them both too much to be able to bear the silence, the broken hearted nights filled with sobs and nightmares, and more importantly, nights spent apart.

It had first started one night when Hermione's cries were so deep and filled with pain that not even Harry could try to ignore them in exchange for a restless night's sleep. He watched as Ron rose from his bed, slowly making his way to Hermione's small palate on the floor, holding her carefully, afraid she might break. It wasn't until soft moans were produced later in their journey when Harry started to notice how suddenly alone he felt.

Hermione was the first to join him.

Her soft hands played across his chest, tangling themselves in his jet black hair, kissing him tenderly as Ron did as Harry had once, and watched quietly. It wasn't until Hermione's loud cries filled the air, that were now out of pure ecstasy did Ron join the two.

At first their hands strayed from each other, afraid to touch or caress another man. Hermione slowly brought them together, watching them share their first kiss, their first stroke, their first orgasm, and their first time alone together. She had taught them that love came in all shapes and forms, and loving someone so much to take their loneliness away in such a natural setting was nothing to be ashamed of.

Then it started happening more often, catching a quickie as they stopped for a break on a hike, Hermione hitching up her skirt as snow fell around them. Ron obliging to her unspoken need and going to her, pressing himself against her while his hands found her soft thighs, slowly bringing her to a screaming peak as Harry watched.

His heart pounding furiously against the heavy locket around his neck, his erection terribly uncomfortable as they set off on their journey again, Ron gently holding Hermione's small hand, Hermione's other hand gently caressing Harry's.

It was all a matter of love, a matter of quenching a fire set deep within each other, one that only they grew to sate, one that only true love could ever possibly end. But it never ended, and they continued. Filling the night air with deep moans, screaming names and throaty whimpers of desire. They grew to need these nights, probably more than they felt the need to save this Wizarding World of theirs, if only to cast out the loneliness, even if just for a while.

Then it came, the day Ron left. He had been wearing the locket for a day and half or so, the constant burn the seeped from his chest to his heart constantly murmuring to him. The night before having been another one filled with soiled sheets and loud moans.

But his temper and his worry had breached that of ecstasy and into that of pure unadulterated fear. Harry had no idea why he had become so mad at Ron, why his logical pleas and worries had finally gotten to him, or even the reason why he had let his best friend, his lover walk away from him and into the rain, watching as the girl who put her heart in her hand for the stubborn redheaded boy ran after him, only to come back with tears in her large brown eyes.

She did not come to him that night, nor did his warmth breach her cold heart as he lay next to her. She flinched at first, still mad at Harry for Ron's leaving. But she slowly relaxed into his arms, her breathing becoming more even until she fell into a restless sleep.

Harry awoke the next morning to sobs, loud cries that seemed to come from outside, he watched Hermione, tears dripping into the snow. Her pain enough to break his own heart, and the only thing worse than that was the fact that he could do nothing to help her…not even in the Night.

--

**Author's Note: **This is seriously one of my favorite fics that I've done, the beginning of my sensual era. This was written right after I started reading Francesa Lia Block, who is now the basis for most of my writing today. Her works showed me that there are more ways than just one to look at the world, to find that eye and go with it. That's what I did. I revised this peice, and going back through it, I still can't believe how beautiful this turned out. Thank you all, the support is amazing.


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter. _

**Part Two**

Hands and skin, moans breaking through the thick of the cold night. Bodies tensed and fingers trembled as lips shook when kissed. The cold seeped through their skin, penetrating the warmth they created, but he pushed it out, filling his thoughts with the boy in front of him and the hands that touched his body. Horror and stone would not ruin this night, nightmares would not plague his dreams, he would be Harry for once, the Boy Who simply Was.

Ron understood, kissing his lips ever so softly as he smoothed the wild hair on the boys head, ending the stroke with his hand braced against his neck, pulling him closer. Tongues danced slowly, dominance not an issue, pleasure and love only filled their hearts as well as the rest of their bodies.

Moans began to grow louder as lips went further down sculpted bodes, minds began to spin as vision grew foggy and limbs went fuzzy. They crashed silently into each other, entangling themselves in everything the other was, and gratefully wasn't. It was here and it was now and all Harry could think about was Ron and his touch and the pleasure coursing through his nerves and then suddenly everywhere.

Ron had taken Harry's length into his mouth, suckling slowly on the tip before releasing him with a soft _pop_. Harry shook, his hands bunched in blankets as Ron continued, his tongue dancing around his member so furiously he saw colors beneath his eyelids.

He sucked and nipped the hot flesh that burned under his tongue, using hands to complete the task at hand, aiding in release, a release that was simply needed. Harry screamed as it grew to be too much too soon and his back arched, shuddering as he came.

Ron slowly brought him down, stroking him with his tongue, kissing him with swollen red lips. He rose soon afterwards, looking into Harry's half lidded eyes. They were bright green for once, like Ron could remember years ago…years before all of this…

Harry held him close to his heart, roaming with hands through golden red hair and kissing lips as soft as the clouds that had now began to show in the Night. He listened as Ron fell asleep; his soft snores barely audible with the redheads mouth so close to his neck. But he held him, held him as close as he could manage, trying his hardest not to touch into the emotions that ran through him, but to push them away and only feel this moment. This moment that seemed to mock him in every way, because soon it would be over, and soon the War would start.

And then…

He couldn't think about losing them, couldn't imagine the loss and guilt that would plague his heart if Ron or Hermione died. Both? He couldn't breathe, his heart was beating too fast and the sweat was too much and the heat…the heat…

Harry woke up suddenly, a path of sunlight shining brightly on his exposed chest. He sat up slowly, looking around only to see an empty tent, with an empty bed. It had all been a dream, Ron was still gone…

He fought back tears as he folded his blankets and placed them neatly next to Hermione's, noticing she still couldn't help but unfold and fold Ron's own mass of blankets everywhere, hope glimmering in the darkest of times…

Harry envied her; he had no hope, no sense of direction and an emptiness that began to consume him fully. He wanted to feel alive, to be able to open up to everything and let it come; instead he had to keep the feelings at bay. He had to hide it all under the surface, he had to be brave, he had to be the one for this job, no matter how much he loathed it.

Hermione walked in quietly, a somber look rested on her face as she brought in more firewood, placing it by the small furnace before looking up at Harry.

Her eyes couldn't hide her sorrow through the mask of smiles, not to Harry, who had truly seen her happy. Happy with him…

He shook his head and moved on, repacking everything and securing it before they folded the old tent up, the canvas rough on his fingers, the rope burning his hands. He reveled in the pain, feeing alive in that moment, he was real, he was here. He was now.

Hermione gripped Harry's hand as they apparated, letting it go with a certain disgust as they landed in a small clearing hidden by brush. The sun leapt over the hill and into a small frozen pond, the winter snow gleaming with reflections.

They set up quietly, Hermione looking behind her shoulder every so often, searching…watching. Harry knew why but didn't look with her, he wasn't there, and Harry didn't know if he would be again. Maybe this was it…

Hermione sat in an overstuffed chair, her knees under her chest as she sipped her tea. Harry did nothing but sit on his small palate he had made for bed, curling the blanket around him. He would turn in early tonight, hoping he wouldn't wake in the morning, praying he would get stuck in his dreams forever…

The night woke him easily, darkness enveloping his, as did his sense of warmth. A body lay next to his, a small petite frame that curled next to his carefully. He looked down at her as he sat up, feeling her pull away at the cold and curl in deeper, a hand pressing his exposed chest down into the pillows. He obliged willingly, her hand resting above his heart, feeling his beat and pressing into it softly, almost unnoticeably.

"I miss him too much."

It was barely a whisper and if Hermione's lips hadn't been so close to his ear he would have never heard.

But he did, and he also heard her soft sobs as she held onto him for dear life, afraid her grief might make her float away into a dark oblivion and leave her with all her loneliness.

Harry turned and looked into her golden eyes, seeing the tears filling them and his heart breaking in his chest, her hand covering the unseen wound.

"I miss him too."

He kissed her softly, wiping the tears away with his fingers, gently pulling a curl behind her ear and resting his hand on her waist. She fell asleep soon; her hands encircled around his as her heart's ache dulled as Harry pulled her closer, watching her as she slept.

He dipped into dreams soon after she, falling ever so softly into the dark and warmth of sleep, letting it take him all, letting himself feel nothing but the girl in his arms…

--


	3. Part Three

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter._

**Part Three  
**_The Return_

Cold, a lonely cold that left your breath frozen on your lips and your hands aching from the numb tension that left them frozen, literally. And Harry was no exception, his hands alive with an ache deep to the bone, feeling as though they might fall off with every movement of his fingers, with every pull of the rope and twist of the canvas that made up the tent.

They had packed quickly, the night air in a flurry around them as the sky's illustrious clouds of grey wound above their heads, rain threatening the brittle air. Hermione moved like one of the living dead, her hands precise and immaculate, her movements swift even as impending danger surrounded her, her courage made Harry feel a coward.

Godric's Hollow had brought upon them both tidings of fortune, good and bad. On one hand the triumph of seeing his parents, at least from a small enough distance to feel true, was amazing. But the feeling of concurrent death, like that that surrounded him, made Lord Voldemort's anger pulse through him like his own, his evil filling the nerves in his brain, clouding his thoughts. Unable to control the emotions that now seemed to flow through him so freely, without even a thought in his mind.

The Nights had started for exactly this reason. The feeling of not being the only one in this world to have to face such difficulties, to lose yourself in one another, to feel that moment and that moment only, to let every worry fall around you like mist on a hot day. It was more than intoxicating, it was addictive. And Harry didn't know how to quit, and he certainly didn't know if he even wanted to.

Hermione gripped Harry's hand and enveloped it with warmth, spinning on her heel and compressing them into an invisible rubber tube, squeezing with a strength that only came from such wild magic, and finally letting go before they thought they'd explode from the pressure.

She let Harry's hand fall, immediately feeling the missing warmth in his palm he hurriedly put up the tent with little help from Hermione, her thoughts obviously elsewhere.

They settled in quietly, their safeguards softly buzzing around them, the magic so high and electric that it couldn't keep the energy from humming around it. Harry set up his palate first, Hermione setting a warm mug of tea out for him while he wasn't looking before sitting with her legs tucked beneath her in a large overstuffed chair, a very heavy volume, thick in her hand.

He drank his tea in silence, a silence that begged to be broken, a kind that sung with annoyance and shook his patience. He threw his blankets over his shoulder and faced away from Hermione, her face alight with the dim cast of the small lamp beside her.

He just began drifting slowly away, his thoughts a rather jumbled mess before he heard a rather noisy rustle outside of the tent and a small squeal from Hermione.

He shot up instantly, his acute senses practically making his ears point to the sky, his hand already reaching for Hermione's wand.

"What'll we do?" She mouthed at him, her eyes slightly wide, though he could tell she was trying her hardest to be brave.

"I'll go." He whispered, standing up in the semi darkness, his silhouette appearing grey on the inside of the canvas, his bare chest shadowed in the dim light.

He opened the front of the tent a mere inch, his face impossibly close to the seam, his eyes searching, watching, attentive. He saw a flash of movement in the bushes a meter away, a loud rustling breaking the silence suddenly, followed by a few choice curse words.

"Bloody witch didn't have to be so good at these spells…" The voice was warmly familiar, a shiver instantly running down Harry's spine, his toes curling slightly, his stomach knotting in anticipation.

And there he was, relief buried deep within the blue eyes of one redheaded boy wandering through the forest, his feet wet and his hair damp, cheeks as red as strawberries.

"Ron?" Harry whispered, his voice weak in the wind, however, it seemed to carry itself to Ron, who's head turned in the direction Harry's voice was coming from.

"Harry?" Ron answered, his eyes searching frantically for the body that held the voice, the eyes that held the emotion, that hands that carried the feeling…

"Harry what is it-" She stopped abruptly, her eyes stuck on a certain spot in the darkness, her eyes welling with unwanted tears, of joy or anger, Harry couldn't tell.

"Hermione?" Ron whispered, even softer, his voice quivering in the night, wishing that he wasn't so cold and tired it was all in his head, a hallucination, a tormenting one at that. "Is that you?"

"Tell him to get inside, he'll freeze to death." Her words were icy, her movements sharp as she turned to go inside, her face rippling with anger, Ron looked up.

Harry moved outside of the tent, his body forming as the tent moved around him, concealing him until he wanted to be known. Ron looked as though his heart had burst. Harry didn't know what to do.

Ron moved slow at first, his emotions strangling his thoughts for a moment before he could move towards Harry, his hands weak at his sides. Harry just looked at him through the curtain of thick darkness, his piercing green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the moon, watching intently as the boy inched closer to him.

Finally Ron found strength, his hand slowly reaching to touch Harry's pale face, slowly tracing his cheekbone, moving past his lips as they parted slightly under Ron's fingertips and then finally to the hollow at the base of his throat. His hand spread across his neck, pulling him closer, his warm breath on Harry's cold cheek.

"I'm sorry."

And he was gone, disappeared into the tent after Hermione. Harry's mind was foggy with warmth, a content feeling spreading throughout his muscles, relaxing the knots in his stomach, letting free the worrisome thoughts that plagued his dreams.

Harry practically ran in after him, watching intently from the background at Hermione's expressions.

She faced the sink, her hands gripping it tightly as Ron stood behind her, his head down, hands limp as he seemed to be pleading in whispers.

Harry could see the tears she concealed, knew her pain first hand. Ron hadn't seen her grief, couldn't hear her sobs at night, couldn't protect her from himself…and now he knew it. It was plain in his eyes, the honesty, the love. But she wouldn't turn to see it, afraid it would break her heart, shake her emotions and fumble her anger.

"Please, Hermione…" Harry could almost hear the tears in his voice, the strain in his body, the hurt in his heart. "I'm so sorry…"

Slowly she turned to him, her body shaking, her hands reluctantly releasing it's grip on the sink. She looked straight into his eyes, searching for the honesty Harry could feel, watching the tears well in his eyes.

Her hand slowly reached for his, a truce, a peace offering. He accepted it by taking it in his, dwarfing hers immediately, filling it with warmth, cradling it softly. He took advantage and leaned in, taking her into his chest, pressing himself to her petite form. She shook against him, her sobs falling silently into the Night as Ron's eyes sought for Harry's, promise locked deep within their cavernous blue depths.

Hermione watched as Ron talked, his mouth moving fast beneath the stream of pure light the receded from the lamp above his head. Her eyes flickered from anger to need, Harry watching them shift, darkening in their livid state and then immediately clouding over with lust when Ron stroked her hand silently, his thumb on her forefinger, the back of his hand brushing against her hair. She wished to push him away, she wished to want to push him away more like it, his hands too much for her to deny, his touch too captivating to control.

Harry's thoughts were lost, Ron talking in circles as the sexual tension increased, burning within the confines of the small tent, lighting with the electricity their skin seemed to give off. No one seemed to take notice, but they all felt it, the strong tug at the pit of their stomach, the clouds that rumbled over their good judgment, the lust that rushed through their veins.

Loneliness wasn't new to them, it was as old as love, their hearts burning with each. Deep in each other's eyes they could see it, the reason they had started these Nights, the reason Harry got involved with Hermione and Ron at all, the reason they loved each other so. It was beyond sexual release, beyond anything comprehendible with such mediocre words that seemed inadequate in Harry's mind.

It was a need, a basic and compulsory need set deep within the confines of each other's hearts. It was the need to be loved, the need to be together, the need to be wanted. It was everything and everyone, everywhere and everything, it was them. And that was all they needed, each other, if only for this moment, if only for right now.

And that was it, suddenly Ron's lips were fastened to Hermione's and Harry was watching, his hands trembling as the lights dimmed until extinguished, leaving them in the pale glow of the moon that passed through the material of the tent.

But no one would be left out this Night, no one would go lonely, no one would feel empty, not now. Ron's hand grabbed Harry's shirt, pulling him closer and closer until Ron's sweet breath fanned Harry's face, warm and seductive before lightly pressing them together, his tongue playing with his lips, teeth nibbling skin lightly as soft lips parted, and voices sighed.

Hermione's hands were unbuttoning and unfastening, pulling down bits of clothing that held bodies confined and in chains. She trembled like never before, need passing through her body until Ron stopped her, catching her hands with his before kissing just below her jaw, trailing to her ear before whispering sweet breath into the sensitive flesh, a tint of pink fluttering under her skin.

His hands were now at work, pulling hems over heads as pants pooled at their feet. Cold was no longer an object, heat emanating from every cell and every pore, escaping parted lips with a sigh. Like always, Hermione was the first to scream, her voice like music to the boys' ears, her sighs causing tremors to copulate under muscles and sweat to bead on taut skin. She was enough to drive them both insane…

Ron kept his head down, his lips moving over her neck in a whisper, his tongue flicking her collarbone with the lightest caress. His hands gripping her hips firmly, his body sliding downward, hers arching into him, pressing their forms together until, to Harry, they almost seemed as one person, two halves of a whole, moving deep within the Night.

_Harry…_

No matter who's lips it escaped from it was all he needed, his hands tracing Hermione's line of curves, the swell of her breasts, the outward curve of her hips and the weight of her thighs pressed into Ron's back. Harry bent down then, to capture her lips in a kiss that didn't have to mean forever, a kiss that meant now.

Hermione could tell the difference between her two lovers, Ron's kiss sweet and lazy, his tongue twirling with effortless caresses, his taste subtly spicy yet musky and full of the forest. And with his mouth trailing downward she couldn't help but moan louder, her muscles clenching as his tongue went to work, pushing and working the soft flesh beneath him, teasing the tender folds with hard teeth, nipping slightly before sweeping his tongue in one long, upward motion.

Harry's kiss, however, was almost the complete opposite, he was all spice, a heat that simmered slightly below the surface, never fully breaking through. His mouth worked methodically, his tongue probing and pushing, stroking slightly before biting her lower lip, suckling just before breaking free to trail lighter kisses down her long, slender neck to her collarbone, before sinking his teeth into her sensitive flesh.

She moaned once more, pushing herself deeper into Ron, and pulling Harry closer, looking into his green eyes, looking for forgiveness, looking for the love they had shared on so many Nights as this one.

And she found it, a bright light in the darkness that had filled her for the past weeks, and suddenly release came in a long and blooming burst, her cry tearing into the Night, her eyes screwed shut as Ron brought her down, slowly, kissing and licking, nipping and nudging.

Her eyes were cloudy, her body limp, she was spent, but not finished. She kissed Ron once more, tasting herself, mint and musk on his lips, warm and subtle. She had waited too long, wanted for an immense amount of time, and now it was hers.

She lay Ron down, his hair falling in bright tendrils around his angular face as she straddled him, her hips covering his as she slid down, catching him between her and pushing him inside, watching as his eyes grew wider and wider before they screwed tightly shut, the pleasure too good, almost painful. She lifted her hips, rolling them in a small tight circle before lowering herself once more and repeating the process, Ron's head rolling from side to side.

Harry caught Ron's mouth, for the first time in months satisfying the hunger that tore at him restlessly, the pain that drove into his heart where the horcrux lay, the hatred that consumed his mind. Ron took it away, his mouth stroking Harry's, their tongues meeting in frustration, Ron taking Harry's lower lip into his mouth, suckling lightly before letting go with a slight catch of his teeth. Harry almost groaned.

Hermione continued her mission, one hand braced behind herself and one on Ron's lower stomach, her nails digging lightly, the inner struggle for release etched on her features, buried in the wild look in her eyes. Ron was second to go, his moan catching in his throat as his hips pushed up into Hermione's, her arching back pressing him to the hilt of her, catching nerve endings she thought had never existed. Their release came simultaneously, their moans entangling with each other as the motion of their bodies slowed but never stopped.

Harry was watching the two, their love the only thing that brought Harry back each time he had gone into Voldemort's mind, their love for each other the only thing that made him believe in love in the first place, the true, pure kind that's rarely noticed for what it was anymore, that kind that made Harry's heart ache with need.

Soon Ron's lips were on Harry's neck, nibbling the flesh, catching his collarbone before laving his tongue in the hollow of his throat, Hermione already intent on Harry's mouth, her tongue playing wicked games with his swollen, pink lips. Ron's hands were already at Harry's thighs, his fingers slowly pressing and pushing the flesh closest to where he wanted his touch most, where he burned to be teased and touched.

Ron's breath fanned over his hot skin, the flat of his tongue running along the underside of Harry's erection, which was impossibly painful. And then he took him fully into the warm silk of his mouth, and Harry was lost.

There was no more Voldemort, no more race to save the wizard and muggle world alike, there was no prophecy and there was no dead parents, no horcrux, no pain. There was only Ron and Hermione, Hermione looking deeply into his eyes before claiming his lips again in a painfully domineering kiss that burned him with need, saturated him with heat.

Ron was intent on bringing the pleasure higher and higher until Harry thought he would burst from the sensations of it all. The war for release raging inside of him as his thoughts were lost, and he could feel it as if it were just over the edge…

And he took it, the waves of orgasm rushing through him, colors bursting beneath his eyelids, dancing with Ron's tongue, in turn, which kissed lightly up his chest, and rested there, feeling his heartbeat, watching his breathing slow.

Hermione lay between the two, her body pressed deeply into Ron's as her back secured herself to Harry, his hands on her hips as he fell asleep for the first time in months, feeling the warm and dark oblivion take him under.

Ron lay with Hermione's head lightly on his chest, her hand grasped tightly in his tufts of orange hair, Harry's arm around his waist as his head buried deep within his neck, his warm breath making the small hairs on Ron's neck rise.

Whatever his reason for leaving had been, they seemed lost in this moment, hazy and stupid. He knew that the end result would be worth the journey, but he also knew the journey was worth more than where you ended up at, no matter how long that last moment is, no matter how it happens or what seems to be, it's never as good as the journey that got you there, and with this in mind, Ron finally let sleep take him after months of lying in bed, helpless to the grief that tore at him night after night.

As they slept soundly none of them were disturbed by the rush of wind that miraculously began to sing through the trees, pushing the underbrush along the broken paths, littered with fallen snow and scattered leaves. Maybe it was the sound of triumph, or maybe it was evil upon this wind, but no one was awake to notice, and as they slept tightly confined to one another, their limbs tangled and entwined, not one of them really cared.

--


	4. Part Four

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter._

**Part Four**

Twilight. The sky seemed to yawn as the breeze drifted lazily across the small plain that overlooked a gorgeously deep blue lake that fluttered alive with fireflies. The colors seemed to fade into each other, strokes of odd shades masterfully standing out while distinctly melding with each other, shadowed clouds easing their way south, clearing the passage for the descending sun and the moon that lingered over the east horizon.

Harry almost smiled at the sight, his heart just heavy enough for a diluted sigh, his shirt tangling around his torso as the wind picked up, goose bumps rising on the back of his neck. He turned back into the safety of the tent, it's warmth ever so welcome on his rosy cold skin. Ron smiled when Harry emerged from outside, wondrous thoughts of the boy playing wicked games with his head, and oh, how he wished it were as simple as that.

War seemed to be in everything around them, it loomed closer as the days grew longer and the Nights lasted well into the morning. It just never seemed to be enough, their hunger too strong to ever sate, their love too strong to ever dwindle. But as the violent energy that fed into the happiness they all seemed to create it also made their euphoria dissipate that much faster. Loneliness seemed to have no match in the invisible battlefield of their hearts, Harry seemed to believe it had no equal, taking out everything in it's wake, but hopefully, with enough strength, not him.

Ron and Hermione were there for that, with their soft as silk hands and their pure velvet whispers they seemed to bring him back, back into the reality that was instead of the reality of what is going to be, the future seemed too delicate not to peak into, even in the confines of a strong willed, young mind. But the deeper he sunk the faster he seemed to pull away, moans no longer penetrating the thick fog that rested between sanity and madness, the heat that grew even as his subconscious worked to numb his senses.

His eyes clouded slightly, a haze between the bright sparkle of his ever so green eyes, a flash of wisdom that Ron could never place, with a twinge of loneliness that he could never touch, that he could never make fade away. He placed his hand safely into the rather short brunette's, still cold from the blast of the beginning spring chill. He tugged on his fingers, raking his fingernails softly over his protruding knuckles, lifting them easily to his lips before kissing them tenderly.

Harry smiled this time, a rather crooked smile, but earned none the less. Ron's eyes pooled with desire, his breath coming in quick bursts as the sun finally let itself drift under the plateau and into the abyss that now accompanied the moon, a darkness that enveloped everything around them. Harry sensed the need that filled Ron, wanted it as his own, and took it deep within himself.

Then Ron's lips were swiftly dancing across the warm skin of Harry's slender neck, his tongue working the sensitive spots he'd grew to know so well. The boundaries that Harry had tried so hard to build against this very thing fell away, his inhibitions dropping silently into the icy night air, his promises for the war breaking as his lips fought for contact with the boy whose hands seemed to drug his very skin…

His tongue came softly, like creeping thunder in a storm of lightening. He licked carefully, tasting him deeply, drinking him in as they drifted to the floor, pillows and blankets bundled beneath their combined weight, crushed velvet against their smooth backs. Soon an absence of hands gave him worrisome thoughts.

Then Hermione's lips were there, coaxing sighs from his tight throat, causing his barriers to bend and crack, making him want with such a fierce notion of insistence that he could no longer control his own body, his hips curling to meet Ron's, his hipbone meeting the boy's ridge between his legs, causing a strangled whimper to sound around the silence of their tent.

Soon their naked bodies pressed greedily into each other, filling each void as they came, pushing past the hesitation, breaking the line between reason and logic and blurring the outcome. Hands dipped past skin, finding each curve, each slight drop of muscle, each flex of motion. It was all new territory, their desire fueling curious minds and wandering hands, kneading this thing called time into a big sphere of nothing and dropping it lower and lower until the ticking of the clock was a mere echo, and suddenly it didn't exist anymore.

There were no Death Eaters, no Voldemort to fear, there was only the feelings and the electrified sense of security that invisibly drew them deeper into their own world, consuming all their fear and devastation and replacing it with kisses and tongues and flicks of energy that coursed through yearning bodies.

Ron steadily held Hermione beneath him, her legs curled at his waist as their bodies joined at the hips, backs curving anxiously as the tantalizing ache drew breath into their bodies, giving it life. His rhythm seemed to move with the echo of the clock, making it a mere whisper of breath on cool cheeks.

His body moved solidly into hers, driving his need farther and farther into the warm depth of Hermione, muscles contracting against hard skin as friction wasn't merely enough. Harry's hand found where they joined and he pressed lightly into her folds, stretching towards the small bundle of bottled pleasure that made Hermione scream silently with the contact of his slender finger.

Her orgasm came quickly, Ron riding her through the tidal waves of release, moving into her body as he fought for his own control, but lost it the moment her tremors returned with a force that shook the foundations of the very reality he worked so hard to save, bringing Hermione along for the ride.

Harry sat back in amazement, his eyes small marbles in the firelight as he watched his friends, their eyes locking with intense looks that Harry not dare to break for fear of the emotions that might over run him. Instead he stretched out lithely, his cat like muscles rippling softly in the dim light as he caught the attention of two more than aroused teenagers across from him.

Hermione was at him at once, her lips whispering words he couldn't explain against his pale skin, warming it to a gleaming flush. The swell of her breasts brushed against his chest, her hard peaks taunting Harry with their glowing color. He took one into his mouth, bending slightly to bite the tip before releasing her quietly, a mist of hushed lust playing gently into her warm honeyed eyes.

She kissed him then, as Ron's hands gently kneaded down his skin, his fingers pulling the reddened flesh lightly before taking his length into his hand tightly. He moaned loudly into Hermione's mouth, her small sigh a reassurance of life, her tongue pushing itself deeper inside to taste him, pulling him out and finally…

Ron's lips circled his tip, his tongue persuading a gentle rocking motion from Harry's hips, dipping him farther and farther into the cavernous depths of Ron's inviting mouth. The pressure was phenomenal, breaking Harry down into the man that had always resided in the hero, and letting him be at ease with that.

His release crept upon him, a shuddering response of muscles finally rippling with a flush that burned his taut skin as he screamed, his teeth grinding hopelessly as he drifted into contentment. Harry's breaths became normal as he found limbs tangled in his, watching as two sets of eyes so different from his own were whisked away into dreamland, feeling his own droop with a new found excitement that buzzed even as he slept.

Harry's dreams awoke him, a battle had ensued, crashing into every part of Harry's life that he wished it never would. Sweat consummated on his warm skin, still sticky from the aftermaths of the Night, which had lasted far too into the next day, the sun already waning over the west horizon, violently outraged at their sleepiness.

He looked over at his friends, Hermione's face elegant and angelic, pointed in the direction of Ron as his face lay extremely calm in front of hers, their bodies still mingling with caught breaths and beating hearts.

_What if I lose them?…_

And as if he asked it aloud, Hermione turned her body into his, her naked form sliding perfectly into the side of his bare torso and she sighed…

"Shh." Her whisper walking slowly across the warm skin of his cheek, cooling it with serene feelings and warming his other cheek to a blush.

Ron then moved with her, his leg pressed into the crevice of skin above her legs, causing even a sleeping Hermione to moan as Ron's hand took Harry's and held it over his heart, whether knowingly, or in a deep slumber, Harry welcomed it, letting sleep take him under again, only to wake up at twilight once more, and face the possibility of another impending death.

Guilt. It was an emotion Harry knew all to well, but this deep and tender feeling that welled in his heart made him suffer far too greatly. He had no wish to fight, no wish to do anything but stay in the Night and in those moments he treasured so dearly. He wanted nothing more than to stay forever in the arms of his lovers, watching them sleep soundly as the world revolved without them. He knew deep inside his heart, that no matter how selfish he wanted to be, no matter how badly he wished to remain in Ron's embrace, that there were people who needed him, and if not him, needed his victory.

But he knew when he watched the stars gleam happily above them that it must be, that in the morning he must bring himself from his slumber and walk into the deadly masquerade that waited for him, that waited for the starting credits to begin rolling and the audience to quietly fill their seats.

Ron silently laid out there blankets side by side, making their sleeping palates as close together as possible. His hands shook with anxious shivers, his eyes dark and ambiguous, mixed emotions flooding them with invisible tears. Hermione watched him fixedly, her eyes wide and expressionless in the flicker of candle light.

Harry stood off to the side, his thoughts fighting to stay in the tent, in the future of the Night, but as much as he wanted to shove past the distraught uneasiness of what tomorrow held, it just seemed to cling to his mind that much tighter. He felt as thought he were choking with it all, the need to be taken away so over whelming his eyes inadvertently filling with dread, his face showing more than he wished to let seep through.

Hermione was the first to notice, her eyes changing swiftly to curiosity. Her lithe body gently moving towards him, his stance stoic and hard, his head aching with the strain of keeping everything under control, with keeping everything numb.

"Harry, love…" She sighed, her hand cupping his feathery skin, porcelain beneath her fingers.

He shook his head, his male ego swelling with pride, his hands shaking with exertion, his eyes turning a violent shade of green. She pulled him to her, his control weak, his body screaming for her to come closer, for any kind of human contact at all…

He hated the conflict. His body and heart wanted, no, needed this. It consumed him with such force that he could barely hear his mind murmuring in the background, his protests becoming softer and softer until the feel of Hermione's delicate lips pressing gracefully to his made them cease entirely, commanding him without effort, taking him without sway. Her tongue drifted across his lower lip, her hands already at his slender neck, their bodies pressing intimately together, their height so close that neither had to move to see into the other's eyes, the contact illicit, but so compelling it had to be explored.

Ron watched as his best friends pressed themselves into each other, Hermione enfolding Harry in comfort, her heart too big to let him go lonely, too tender to watch him without worry. Their heads bowed in silence, Hermione's warm molten eyes searching for his, finding the strength to keep her own emotions in check she guided Harry to the bed Ron had just finished. He clung to her like a lost boy, surrounding his loneliness and guilt with her heart, and taking it swiftly away with a simple touch of her lips.

Ron took Harry tenderly in his arms, kissing his neck softly, murmuring words against his pale skin, tracing his jaw line lightly with a caress of his lips. A shift of weight became noticed as Hermione faced Harry, his eyes alight and cloudy with lust, with need. Ron's clear blue eyes watching her, demanding she go on, pushing her to go without him for once.

Their rules were unsaid, but known all the same. Hermione was Ron's, Harry knew this, always had. Harry had never taken her, the only exploration of bodies happening with lips and tongues and hands, never anything more. But as the moon loomed over them thoughtfully, Ron knew, he knew with his whole heart what they were, they belonged to each other in equal, and if tomorrow meant death, none of them would die without that knowledge.

Hermione kissed Harry, a kiss that made his hands ache to touch her, to taste her and remember it forever, plaster the feel of her in his mind. It didn't matter if she was his best friend, she loved him, and that was all he wanted. Ron softly sighed words in Harry's ear, placing security in his heart, and passion on his skin. Fingertips were suddenly at the hem of shirts and the belts on zipped jeans, tracing slowly up the soft and warm skin that accompanied it.

Harry lay on his back, Hermione hovering above him, her hands braced on his bare chest, her lips sketching shivering spots on his neck, her teeth drawing in his skin with small bites. Harry's body ablaze with fervor, his shivers coursed through his spine and ended with shocks in his hands, anticipation shaking through his skin.

Ron was at their side, his face above Harry's as Hermione's wet heat traced his length, his eyes closing with overwhelming feeling, it was more than he'd felt in months, but even as he shook with feeling his mind still tried to numb them, shaking them at the core until they screamed and left, leaving Harry alone again, like they always did. But this time Ron was there at his side, keeping him grounded, keeping him there.

His lips grazed Harry's, quivering with control, Ron whispered the words Harry had begged to hear all his life.

_Let go,  
__None of it matters now…_

His mind fought relentlessly, never relinquishing the guilt, the weight of the world that lay invisible on his unprotected shoulders. Harry cried out as Hermione moved him inside of her, the warmth enveloping around him slowly, easing him into simplicity, leaving his mind silent and sated, quiet in the Night like he had never been before.

Ron watched as he felt the weight lift from his lover, watching him let go in the midst of everything, holding on to the one thing he could never lose. Harry's hand reached for Ron, teasing his thigh quietly while Hermione's whimpers grew louder, her rhythm rising with intensity, marking a scream that tore through Harry's lips, his fingers raking up Ron's thigh and gripping him firmly at his base and pulling slowly downward.

Ron's elbows almost gave way as Harry's hand kept rhythm with his own, bringing him with them, bringing them both into the haze of desire that permeated through his own body, making him lose all will power and dipping him into the warmth of feeling, the numb part of himself cowering in the confines of his thoughts and waiting for the moment to be over. But he held on, driving his hips forward and aiming them higher, Hermione's spasms giving way into her climax that she inadvertently held off, noticing the motions that had gave way to Ron's own groan's of impending satisfaction.

Soon they struggled for release, clawing and screaming as it loomed just out of reach, just over the peak. Harry's arm caught Hermione's neck, bringing her down to his lips as his hips drove into her deeper, keeping their rhythm as he kissed her with eager necessity, drowning himself in her scent, her taste. He freed her halfheartedly, her eyes shut as she struggled for control, her nails digging into Harry's chest, the ache deep inside of her growing furiously with a hunger that roared within her.

Ron's lips were suddenly formed to Hermione's, her moan subdued by the assault his mouth played on hers, his tongue stroking hers with a need greater than either of them could harness, their passion growing outside of themselves and enveloping all around them. Enveloping each other.

Soon the hot sting of release was echoing off of bodies, moans and screams tearing into the thick air with uninhibited response. Hermione was the first to let go, her muscles constricting forcefully around Harry, her eyes screwed shut as he pushed her through it, Ron reaching where they were joined to stroke her softly, her climax reaching uncontrollable heights as Ron got his own.

His scream shred through every sane part of their life, giving them here and now, and nothing more. His whimper of helplessness sounded after he was sated and dry, his hair hanging limp around his cobalt eyes searching Harry's, searching for the reckless part of release that always over took him, and he found it within the throes of his own trembling pinnacle.

Harry's scream sounded, puncturing the loneliness that had culminated the past years, giving him the release he needed, the release that had beckoned him with every Night. His hands shook on Hermione's hips, gripping securely to her as he arched back, colors blooming in his eyes, his nerves tingling brightly as the peak slowly descended, the only sound was that of the heavy breathing that procured from the three helpless souls that lay replete and tired.

This Night Harry was the first asleep, his emerald eyes drifting idly into slumber, his breathing even and sound, his hair a mess atop his head. Hermione stared at him for a few long moments, her eyes burning with golden streaks as tears threatened their calm state. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hand entwined in his, keeping him safe in her heart.

She watched as his chest rose, only to fall with a single breath, but she waited for it to rise again, rise with life in his lungs. She needed to make sure that every time he would breathe in, her insecurity invisible to those around her, her faith in the lone boy as great as any others, if not greater. She watched as the little boy she met seven years ago turned into the lonely man that lay before her, still innocent in God's eyes, but too important and relied upon by others. She wished to take it away and give him something real, give him a feeling of security, give him love.

Ron watched the war that played in her eyes, the tears the glossed with the past and all her regrets, all her guilt, all her sympathy. He laid a hand in her soft curls, tendrils laying across Harry's chest, her eyes moving to meet his. She smiled, leaning in to his touch as it sparked electricity through her body, oh how a simple touch from the one you love can turn you completely inadequate for thinking. He wished he could take away her doubt, though he knew she pushed it away from Harry's eyes, he saw it in her heart, heard it in the unspoken words of the one he loved.

Though the plans that had brought them here had not been kindly, they had protected them, however so frighteningly and rough on the way. Bellatrix had not killed Hermione, they had safely procured Godric's Sword and now they had nothing but the end in front them, the end of the fight that had encircled the teenagers lives for most of their existence. Soon, at least he knew, it would be over. And if he were to die, no regrets would pass him, he would die knowing his best friend had lived to kill the one who had put him and his loved ones in danger, and that in and of itself would be worth more than his life.

He watched as Hermione floated into dreamland, her lips curved in a knowing smile as she nuzzled closer to the warmth of Harry's body. Ron lay alone for hours, his mind only granting him sleep in the beginnings of an early, crisp morning. But comfort emanated from the trio, their lives intertwined gracefully and protectively, the hope that glided off of the wizarding world pouring deep into them and waking them rather early, their hearts mended and ready for whatever the next day would bring them.

**The End**


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